Yeah, Maybe I'm a Crook
by MissFaberrySuarez
Summary: Emma left Storybrook, leaving behind her son, her life, and the woman who had caused all of this. The woman who would learn that, sometimes, there's a thin line between hate and loneliness. The woman who now spent every night glued to her son's door, listening to Henry and Emma's conversations during their webcam meetings, wrapped in a blanket and in herself.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Hello! So, I intend to continue this story, I would much appreciate any honest feedback to know if I'm heading in the right direction. This will contain mature content in future chapters, so I'm rating it M and keeping it that way. Enjoy :)

* * *

**Yeah, Maybe I'm A Crook**

_by Miss FaberrySuarez_

* * *

She never believed a year could weigh as much as that one did.

Then again, she'd never had anyone to lose, let alone anyone to _miss_. The mere thought of inhabiting one hundred and four miles away from her own heart seemed absurd at best.

Until she had been forced to experience it first hand, that is.

One would think the excruciating sound of loneliness would be the worst part of living alone, instead, Emma Swan felt that her incredibly loud upper neighbors fulfilled the task of smothering any silence at all. Besides, she knew how to _do _alone. She knew how to wake up to an empty house, how to busy herself into oblivion, how to force herself to _forget_.

_All my life, I've been alone_.

She did it once for twenty-eight years, she could do it again for the rest of her life if she had to.

_Walls up._

That Friday marked one year exactly since the day she had been literally thrown off of that godforsaken town by that _godforsaken woman_. She had been handed no other choice, _leave or hurt Henry even further by getting into a custody battle. _One she would most definitely lose, after all, who could stand a chance against the mayor's skillful show puppets? That's what everyone there was; mere puppets at her mercy.

So, Emma moved back to Boston; the only thing she had that was somewhat mildly related to _home_. Whatever that was.

She no longer knew.

Henry called her on a daily basis, especially in the morning, he'd actually been serving as her alarm clock. She found that waking up to her son's voice got her one step closer to being a morning person. During the day they would exchange a few texts here and there, but never too many, as he was growing suspicious that his mother could, in fact, be tracking his phone. Texts which never failed to pull a smile from her. Then, at night, after saying goodnight to Regina, he would sneak into his desk, open his newly bought laptop (a gift, possibly a bribe in exchange of words as he had stopped speaking to his mother after the Emma incident), turn on his webcam and speakers and spend at least an hour whispering with his biological mother.

It was the highlight of her otherwise dull day.

That specific night, she felt slightly on edge, ready to either crumble into a thousand pieces or to drown herself in alcohol. _Not apple cider. Never. Apple. Cider._

But no, no alcohol. She would strive through the first hours of the night sober, at least until she got to see Henry. She needed to see him, she needed to hear his voice, she needed some sort of reassurance that she had some connection to this world, something to keep her real, something to make her feel _alive_, damn it.

_Stop._

_Breathe_.

Her nerves only stilled when her son's always cheery face appeared on her computer screen, then, she immediately grinned like the idiot she is.

Like the idiot she had been to give him away.

_Stop_.

She pulled in a breath and dived into the joy of she partially felt.

"_Hi, Emma!" _

"Hey, kid, how's it going?" She fought a lonesome tear and gulped her lungs down.

"_You know, 's been a year." _He grumbled but didn't drop the smile. Emma did. _"Mom's not so well either."_

"Oh?"

Henry glanced back, then practically smashed his nose against the screen and whispered. _"I think she's bored."_

Emma released a heartfelt chuckle, then instinctively reached for his son's face, letting the tips of her fingers lightly touch the screen as if to stroke his hair. It was never enough and she wished she could meld into that damn camera.

Her voice softened. "Now why would she be bored?"

"_You're not here, she has no one to get angry with. Besides me, though she doesn't anymore. Not since you left."_

He scratched the tip of his nose, once an annoying habit Emma used to discourage him from, now, only another thing to miss.

"Now, how's that a bad thing, kid?"

"_Everyone needs to get angry sometimes."_

Emma had no idea where he'd gotten his wits from. She dropped her head to one side and nodded.

"I think she has probably reached the limit of how angry you can be in a lifetime, kid." Henry's laugh echoed throughout her living room and she loved it. Filled her heart with such impossible warmth followed by the sting of distance. "Don't be too hard on her. She needs you."

"_I know. I just miss you. Things are less fun without you here."_

Emma's throat punched into her chest, which she was sure had cracked in half.

"I know, kid." She swallowed and clenched her fists. "I miss you too."

A loud thud pierced through her speakers and Henry's head snapped back to his door, then rushed to face Emma again. _"I think mom's coming, gotta go!"_

With that, he shut his laptop and black filled Emma's screen. Sheer darkness and static. That's all her mind had become.

* * *

Henry's speed of getting into bed had to be some kind of record. There he was, in less than five seconds, snuggled within sheets, eyes shut, mouth open, pretending to breathe heavily and slow.

No noise followed the thud, so he shot a last glance over the covers before letting himself slip into a deep slumber.

Little did he know his mother had her arms wrapped around her quivering body, back pressed against the cold wood, trying to steady her rushed breaths not to tremble her son's door. She didn't want to cause any more noise. Didn't want to alarm her son.

Most of all, she didn't think she'd have any strength in her body to get up from the spot. And if there was one thing she most definitely could not handle, was to have her son see her in such wrecked state.

She would not show _weakness_.


	2. Chapter 2 Wood and intoxicating leather

**Yeah, Maybe I'm A Crook**

_by Miss FaberrySuarez_

**Chapter Two: **_Wood and intoxicating leather__  
_

* * *

Blackmailing Emma into leaving Storybrooke had been a necessity.

"_Miss Swan, leave, or get into a custody battle; lose and you'll never lay eyes on him again. Your choice."_

Her words had become permanently imprinted on her tongue. They imposed those dreadful memories on her brain, as if she no longer controlled it. For fuck's sake,_ who_ loses control their own thoughts? A mad woman, that's who.

Had she gone mad?

Possibly.

Well, she might as well have, she'd rather have a rational explanation to why she kept feeling whatever it was that forced her to bundle up in a thick blanket, looking like a freaking burrito, and essentially spend her nights at her son's door.

One year of nothingness would do that to you.

Regina loathed the sight of red leather jackets and yellow Bugs, she couldn't stand the smell of hot cocoa and avoided her grey/blue silk shirt at all costs, leaving it to rot in shame in the corner of her closet along with her sanity.

She blamed her son. For finding Emma, for having brought her into _her_ town and into _their_ life. He had no right, Regina had brought him up beautifully, always aiming for excellence, for him to want for nothing.

Though, ultimately, she blamed _herself_. What for? She couldn't quite pinpoint it. But it was eating at her insides, bit by painful bit, having to constantly reassure herself that she had done the right thing, that Henry was better off this way, that it had brought stability back into their lives.

Still, the town seemed duller. It reminded her of the time before she adopted Henry, it reminded her of agonizing stillness and an uneventful eternity.

The only plus side? No Emma, no breaking of the curse.

Otherwise, she had grown vastly disappointed of the outcome of chasing her away. Henry hadn't gotten closer to her at all, the closest they'd been was really during her nighttime escapades to eavesdrop on him and Miss Swan.

It was the only way for her to be updated on her son's life and it killed her that it had to be that way.

That night marked one year exactly since she had seen the blonde's dreadful Volkswagen riding away from her, from _her_ son, and from _her_ town.

That night she got to Henry's door earlier and immediately set camp, waiting.

She had heard Emma Swan's voice crack, she had heard the woman that she had mercilessly kicked away, ask her son for him not to be hard on her.

"_She needs you."_

Pfft, as if she had _any_ idea of what or who she _needed_.

In that moment she had turned into a sobbing shell of the woman she were, she had felt all oxygen slip away from her lungs and she had carelessly dropped the back of her head against the wood with a thud.

She no longer had any strength.

* * *

The following day had been as slow as everyday had grown to be.

Regina figured she'd go groceries shopping, maybe cook a pleasant dinner for her and Henry. Perhaps that's what they needed, _time_. Time to converse, to share, to let out repressed feelings.

It was decided. She spent her afternoon confined to the kitchen, baking a delicious apple pie and cooking the best casserole she could manage. She had even gotten Henry a cherry _soda_, something he had always been prohibited of having. She set the table, arranged the plates and waited anxiously, ready to actually _talk_ and listen to whatever he had stuck in his throat to spill out.

So, when Henry got home, dashed directly towards the staircase and announced that he was not hungry, locking himself in his room, Regina was nothing short of utterly brokenhearted.

She stripped off her apron, threw it violently against the polished wooden floor and raged away into her study, shutting the door with a loud bang.

She had actually _tried_, she had tried and cooked and baked and set the table, she even used her fancy china!

Was it not enough?

Her hands shuddered unceasingly and she struggled a big deal to actually pour herself a drink.

_Damn it_.

She chugged the fiery liquid in one intoxicating gulp.

Tonight she wouldn't listen to Henry and Miss Swan's conversation. She couldn't, it wrenched her insides only to think that he had rushed upstairs to speak with the woman instead of actually paying attention to Regina's effort.

She wouldn't.

* * *

Four drinks later and she only discerned where she was going when she was halfway there, mid stairs, dark mascara rivers streaking down her cheeks and quivering knees.

Regina had been doing it for almost a year, her senses could be one hundred percent shut down and she would still find herself crouching at her son's bedroom door. It had become a habit, a routine, something that had grown roots in her stomach and sprouted through her ribcage.

So, Regina reached for her crimson plaid blanket and sat on the usual spot as gently as a tiny mammoth. Then, tucked errant strands of hair behind her ear, pressed against the wood and listened intently.

"It has to be tomorrow."

"_At what time exactly, kid?"_

"Right before school, mom has a breakfast meeting so she's leaving earlier for work."

Regina narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Why would Henry be giving out that information to Miss Swan without her permission?

"_I don't know, Henry, I don't think this is a good idea."_ Emma's voice sounded strained, raw, broken even.

"Emma, come on! Don't back out now! Besides, we have to catch up on Operation Cobra."

Regina rolled her eyes. That damn operation thing, as if it could ever lead to anything substantial.

"_I'm supposed to be responsible and all, kid, what if she finds out?"_ Emma's voice lowered at that last part. _"We're only supposed to see each other with her consent and we both know that's not gonna happen."_

Regina's heart dropped and looped twice. She had to press a hand to her stomach or she'd certainly pour out all of its contents.

"She has no idea." Henry's conviction kicked Regina's chest into her back. "Trust me."

They fell silent for a moment until Emma spoke, her voice small, barely enough to reach the other side of the door. _"Fine, let's do this."_

"Yes!" Henry beamed and his mother could hear him bouncing on his chair. "I knew you couldn't resist me!"

Regina felt more like a puddle of emotions rather than a human being. She sunk into her blanket, pulled it above her head and smashed her hands against her face. As if that would stop the tears. Her chest trembled. Why would Henry do that? Why would he arrange a meeting with Emma behind her back when he could simply ask her, just tell her that he missed her. She would let him be with her, she would. Well, she wasn't too sure about that, but it was open for discussion. She's his mother for god's sake, he should trust her with his feelings.

The mayor stayed put to listen to the rest of the conversation, face submerged in her hands, sobs muffled by the soft fabric and heart clenching with each word that crawled into her ears.

She would never be enough.

* * *

Regina wasn't sure what had woken her up, the sunlight penetrating through her eyelids, the sharp pain piercing her neck or the sound of Henry's footsteps from the other side of the door.

She gently fluttered her eyes open, carefully enough not to scald them when they made contact with the light and took a second to recognize where she was through her blurry vision.

_Damn it!_

She had fallen asleep and completely overlooked her breakfast meeting.

Oh, the hell with the meeting. Henry was already getting ready to see Emma and she was still sitting by his room, forcing her sore limbs to obey and get up before he dashed through the door.

After a minute of silent groaning, stretching and cracking, she managed to stand and rushed to her suite, ditching the blanket and pajamas and quickly slipping into the outfit that she had chosen the night before.

Regina heard her son exit his room and she understood it as her clue to follow after hearing the front door click shut.

She flew down the stairs like a mad woman, still holding her black peep toe heels in her hands and nearly slipping on the perfectly polished wood once she reached the floor. Thankfully, she managed to get to the lobby safely and opened the door only the slightest bit, enough to peak through it to make sure that Henry was within a safe following distance.

Imagine her surprise when she saw an appalling mustard colored Volkswagen parked right outside the mansion with a tall blonde adorned with red leather and overly tight blue jeans leaned against it. She had her hands shoved deep into her pockets, pink lips pulled into a smile and bright emerald eyes glimmering with the sight of Henry prancing towards her.

She had the _nerve_ to actually wait by Regina's home.

The mayor flinched back into the mansion. That sight had her heart pounding at what it felt like two hundred beats per minute, her lungs had shot up to her throat and her stomach had shrunken itself to a size of a dehydrated pea. Hesitantly, she pushed the door slightly open again and watched as her son ran into the other woman's arms. Regina recoiled instantly, trying to ease the strong pang that took on her chest.

She had to pull herself together. It was Miss Swan, goddamn it, not a three headed dragon.

Taking in a sharp breath, Regina opened the door, fully exposing herself and bracing for a reaction. Which she didn't get. They were so engulfed in their little family moment that they didn't even notice the mayor's stare fuming through them. She walked forward.

The path leading outside the garden towards the car seemed two miles long and she heard every footstep echo throughout her mind, slowly feeling the ambience noise fading as her rugged breaths filled in.

She stopped once she got closer to her son, who kept his arms tangled tightly around Emma's neck and she noticed the blonde had her eyes shut.

Regina cleared her throat and watched emerald peal open and stare through her. The grin immediately vanished from Emma's lips while she retrieved from Henry's embrace, who turned around to face his adoptive mother.

"M-mom, what are you doing here?"


End file.
